As we boarded the airplane to Haiti, I stole a glance at the Guest Services team. We were an unlikely crew—coming from different backgrounds and seasons of life. Yet, we had been thrust together and bonded on this mission adventure by one common word: YES.
We had all said YES to God’s leading. As the plane took off, I saw people who had sacrificed their comfort, their resources, their time with family and their sense of security to go.
A new way of seeing
When we arrived, we were challenged by what we saw and experienced. Early on, a young Haitian man instructed us on the proper way to greet the people in the villages. We were told to slow down and to “see” people instead of just passing them by. He shared that not acknowledging individuals properly could cause offense. Being authentic in your greeting was of vital importance. In his broken English, he compared their “way” to the American “way” which quite often is brushing past people and not really acknowledging them. Our culture doesn’t always support “seeing” other people. We are so often self-absorbed and busy.
In Haiti, we were forced to slow down. We truly saw the people and were deeply moved by their stories and prayer requests. Someone commented that their prayer requests sounded an awful lot like the things that concern us back in the states. Family problems. Financial pressures. Political unrest. Suffering. Medical ailments. Pain and hurt.
While their physical environment looked vastly different—their need and our need is universal. The need for a Savior. I was convicted by it.
I don’t always take the time to see and hear. But I want to. And I want to share the answer--Jesus. A Savior. And while we can’t talk to everyone we encounter, we CAN take the time to slow down and really see and hear from others who are on this journey. Needs exist all around us and our mission field is right where God has placed us. It’s just a matter of opening our eyes and ears.
Common love and passion
On our trip, we attended the Haitian church. As the music began and the worship team took the stage, an infectious joy swept through the crowd. As they sang in their native French creole, I stood by watching the happiness on their faces and the enjoyment they found in praising the Lord. They had little in the way of material goods but their praise was rich and abundant. While I didn’t understand their words, I certainly understood their language. It was the language of worship, of exalting a Savior—who in the midst of a dry and dusty land had demonstrated His deep love for them and His faithfulness to their families.
As the Haitian people sang, I saw teammates shed tears and raise hands. And this big, vast world full of diversity and differing cultures seemed much smaller to me. We were all—everyone in the church that night —united together with one common love and passion: To worship God and make Him known.
Letting go
We began the trip with large checked bags—carrying our food items and other necessities for the week. We had luggage filled with the many things we would need while we were there. At the end of the week, we had the opportunity to leave behind any items that we would want to donate to the Haitian people. We left most of our clothes and shoes and many of our comfort items. We breezed into the airport—leaving with mainly just the clothes on our backs and very little else. We left much lighter than when we arrived.
As I walked through the airport on our last day, I couldn’t help but think of the symbolism. Our journey to Haiti was packed full with things like fear, uncertainty, weariness, burdens, to-do lists, and just plain old baggage from our lives. We all realized that many of the items we carried really weren’t necessary and, in fact, just not that important—both literally and figuratively. We didn’t need to hang on to the things that offered a false sense of security or comfort. Or cling to something of misplaced importance.
Our idea of what was necessary had changed. And it doesn’t take a missions trip to examine this beautiful truth. When our focus fixes on Christ. When we ponder eternity. When we embrace what is most important. We have no choice but to live much lighter.